


Same Page

by starwarned



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [19]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Simon, COC 2020, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2020, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Carry on Countdown Day 19, CoC, DAY 19 - Misunderstanding, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Misunderstandings, Overuse of italics, POV Alternating, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Top Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, d/s undertones are BARELY there, it's just lots of sex!, this fic is not that kinky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27902602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Carry On Countdown Day 19 - Misunderstanding“He seemed to think we were on the same page. I wasn’t even sure we were reading the same book.” - Jodie AndrefskiCommunication mistakes lead to... shagging?
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026942
Comments: 10
Kudos: 137
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	Same Page

**Author's Note:**

> oh god. hi y'all. i full sent on this fic. please enjoy lmao

**BAZ**

Simon Snow is shite at communication. 

Hence why we’re here, arguing over what he meant when he _apparently_ very clearly explained to me what he wanted last night.

“I said what I wanted,” Simon insists, his cheeks a striking shade of pink that I would usually enjoy more if they weren’t accompanying him trying to correct me. “You’re always saying I need to talk more.”

“I resent that,” I say immediately. “I’m always saying you should _communicate_ more. You certainly don’t have to talk.” Chomsky knows we text a lot when it’s hard to talk. I don’t want Simon to think I’m pushing him. (Although, in this case, it would have been much less of a hassle if he _had_ just talked more.) 

“I said what I wanted,” he repeats, pouting and folding his arms over his chest. His tail is whipping around behind him, showing his true state of agitation. “You’re being a right git.”

He’s leaned up against the counter, looking far more casual than this conversation warrants. I suppose I’m not much better. I’m sat on the sofa, twisted around so I can face Simon while we argue. 

I sigh a bit. “You understand how it could have been misconstrued, right?” I ask, not unkindly, which takes a lot of effort. 

The tops of Simon’s ears turn pink and if he were more shirtless (I wish he was), I just know I’d be able to see the flush on his shoulders. “Yes,” he mutters. Then adds, “I thought it was clear.” 

I set my phone down on the arm of the couch and stand up. “Darling,” I say, stepping over to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. He doesn’t look at me right away so I tuck my hand under his chin so his eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry that I didn’t understand what you were hinting at.” 

He shrugs and looks down again, placing his hands against my chest and rubbing at the material softly. 

And then, because I can’t stop thinking about it, I murmur, “Did you really mean it?”

Simon’s head shoots up and his eyes meet mine sharply. He nods. And nods again. 

I bite my lip. “But, after last time-”

Simon cuts me off with a kiss. Sometimes I wonder if I could just talk for the rest of my life about nothing and everything just so Simon will occasionally get bored and kiss me into silence. When he pulls back, he kisses my cheek. “I want to,” he says. “We don’t have to think about last time.” 

But, unfortunately, I’m thinking about last time. 

Simon and I are not the most sexually healthy couple in all of London. But we’re getting better. And it’s good. But the last time we attempted to have sex, Simon freaked out on me. He does, occasionally, and I’m usually fairly equipped to handle it. I can handle a consolation wank. 

But we were really far. I was nearly inside Simon when he froze up and started breathing heavily like someone had dropped a weight on his chest. I’d let go of him immediately and helped him calm down, but he insisted that he felt like he was being smothered. 

We haven’t had sex since (not even a blowjob, even though I’ve been tempted to just drop to my knees in front of Simon many times). 

And last night, Simon and I had been snogging. I’d been really quite enjoying myself in the position just under his jaw, sucking a mark into his skin, when he’d mumbled, “ _Fuck me_ ,” softly. 

I’d moaned in response - I love it when Simon’s loud and unfiltered when I’m making him feel good - before Penelope and Shep waltzed in the door and we had to put the snogging on hold.

Little did I know, Simon thought that had been the conversation we needed before having sex tonight. 

“It’s fine,” Simon says, still pressed up against me and rubbing soothing circles into my chest. “I want to,” he says. 

I’m afraid of hurting him. I’m afraid of a lot of things. But I can’t deny that _I want him_ . Just imagining being that close to him, _being inside him_ , is making my head ache.

I lean down (a whole three inches) and press my forehead against his. I feel annoyingly repetitive, but I _have_ to be sure. “You’re sure?”

Simon kisses me softly and then trails several more kisses along my cheek to my ear. “Baz,” he whispers, and chills shoot up my spine immediately. “ _Please_ fuck me.”

And if that weren’t enough to get my palms sweaty, he continues. 

“I want you,” he mumbles. “I’ve been thinking about it so much.” 

“ _Fuck_ , Simon,” I breathe out, tightening my grip on his hips. “You can’t just say that.” 

Simon raises an eyebrow as he pulls away from my ear. “I can say whatever I want,” he says proudly and with that sweet wicked look in his eye. “What’re you gonna do to stop me?”

**SIMON**

I’m not sure if I’ve said the wrong thing or _just_ the right thing. I reckon I toe that line a lot where Baz is concerned. I tend to speak before I think and that either gets me in trouble or (hopefully - in this case) gets me taken to bed. 

Baz keeps me hanging on for only a few more seconds before he mutters, “You’re a nightmare,” and kisses me hard.

I suppose he’s not wrong. 

I kiss him back and whip my tail around so it wraps around Baz’s wrist, which is still attached to my waist. 

Utilizing my hold on him, I start to pull him with me towards the bedroom. The kiss is messy and it’s hard to suck on your boyfriend’s tongue while you’re stumbling down a hallway, but Baz is insistent in not breaking the kiss until we’re inside the room. Then, he tugs back to shut the door, pulls his wand out of his pocket, and casts “ **Silence is golden** ” at the door. 

I blush at the implication. 

(It’s not my fault that I’m loud.) 

Baz sets his wand down on the bedside table and opens the drawer to retrieve the half-empty bottle of lube there. 

We haven’t used it in a while and my heart is fucking pounding. 

I know I can do it this time. While my feelings are complicated and often inexplicable, I can usually tell when I’m not in the right mindset to get my brains fucked out. 

And _Merlin_ , I want it so bad. I want _Baz_ so bad. I tell him so with a step forward into his chest. I drape my arms over his shoulders and kiss him.

“You’re absolutely cert-”

“Yes,” I cut him off immediately, twining my fingers in his hair. “I’m certain.” 

That finally seems to satisfy Baz and he grins. (Fuck, it’s so sexy.) “Right,” he says, leaning in to let his mouth ghost over my jaw. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard.” 

I can’t stop the groan that rumbles through my chest and throat. “Please,” I whisper. 

I’m suddenly left cold as Baz steps away from me, my only point of contact being where my tail is still wrapped around his wrist. Baz raises an eyebrow at me. “On the bed,” he says, authoritatively. 

It sends pinpricks down my arms. I love it when Baz does this. (He’s always been bossy so this must come naturally to him.) I nod and immediately move to get onto the bed, unwinding my tail from Baz’s wrist. 

He stops me. “Undress first,” Baz says, his voice enough for me to stop in my tracks and turn to face him. He’s looking at me expectantly. 

I’m breathing far too heavily for someone who is not currently being fucked so in order to get to _that_ stage faster, I strip off my shirt and trackies in record time. My pants come next and then I’m starkers in front of Baz. 

He eyes me hungrily, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips languidly. 

_Fuck. Me._

“On the bed,” he repeats now that I’m undressed. 

I follow orders, not sure exactly how he wants me, but I know I want to look at him when he touches me, so I fall into my back, spreading my legs to leave space for him. This position isn’t incredibly comfortable on my wings but I can handle the discomfort if Baz would only hurry up and get over here. 

“Baz,” I say impatiently. 

“Coming,” he says as he slowly starts unbuttoning his shirt. Every lovely inch of skin that’s revealed just turns me on even more. 

Fuck it. I get started without him, reaching down to slowly stroke at my own cock. 

Baz eyes me, but doesn’t tell me to stop. He starts to take off his shirt a bit faster. He manages to look collected and _sexy_ as he tugs off his jeans (a feat I can never master. I inevitably trip over myself a bit) and pants. 

I watch, biting at my bottom lip, as Baz steps over to the bed and settles himself between my thighs. I’m still stroking myself and Baz’s hand covers mine to slow the movement. He kisses me gently, running his tongue over my lips and teeth painstakingly slowly. 

I groan. “Get on with it,” I say, my voice whinier than I’d originally hoped. 

But he does. He shoves my hand completely out of the way and starts to stroke me off as he kisses me harder, my cry of surprise getting lost in his mouth. I grind up into his hand and whimper against his lips, my arms reaching up to brace themselves against his shoulders. 

His hand disappears from around my cock and I buck into the air for a moment before I hear the click of the cap on the lube. My eyes shoot open and Baz looks at me once he’s coated his fingers. 

Baz slides his hand between my thighs and nudges them apart further. I comply, my breath hitching with anticipation. 

“You’re gonna be good for me, right?” Baz asks, leaning down to press a kiss just above my right nipple. 

I nod quickly, my throat suddenly too dry to produce sounds other than a soft squeak when he presses a cold finger into me. 

Baz is always careful when we’re here - he takes his time stretching me open and making sure I’m comfortable. He, of course, is like this today - but that doesn’t mean I’m taking it without complaint. 

“ _Baz_ ,” I whine once he’s got three fingers in me comfortably. “ _I’m good_ , c’mon.” 

He continues to tease me, curling his fingers upward to brush just barely over my prostate. He kisses me to shut me up when I open my mouth to whine again. 

I _hmph_ against his mouth, but then he’s pressing his tongue against mine and I’m forgetting about anything except the achingly gentle pressure of his fingers and the taste of his lips. 

He finally deems me ready and tugs his fingers out. “Are your wings okay?” he asks. 

I can’t look at him because I’m far too invested in watching his still lubed fingers wrap around his cock. “Hmm,” I mumble. “Fine, I guess.” 

Baz knocks his knee against my thigh. “Turn over?” 

I look up at him and grin once I see the way his eyebrows are lifted. I do as I’m told, scrambling to turn over and push back against Baz. My arse hits his stomach and he puts both hands on my hips to steady me. 

“Ready?” he asks, his voice low and suggestive. I nearly come on the spot.

I nod enthusiastically. “C’mon,” I say, impatiently rolling my hips back against him. 

I can feel Baz’s cock against me and _finally_ , I get what I want when he slowly pushes into me, his hands gripping my waist like I’ll fly out of his grip if I get the chance. 

I won’t. I could stay here forever. Even if Baz being pressed deep inside of me and not moving is utter torture. “Baz, _move_ ,” I insist, attempting to rock back against him. 

He does. And I am lost in him again. 

**BAZ**

I’ve always gotten caught up in how warm Simon is, but until I’m there, my cock surrounded by his sweltering _heat_ , I forget just how easily I could catch on fire. 

“ _Baz_ ,” Simon whimpers deliciously, trying to fuck back onto me, despite the very clear hold I have on his hips that prevent him from moving _unless I let him_. I stop sucking on his shoulder so I can watch the blush creep further over his shoulders and down his back. His wings shudder.

It’s fucking beautiful and it makes me impossibly more in love with him. 

It’s slow right now - I’m languidly fucking him like I have all the time in the world - and Simon’s practically gagging for it. 

“Baz, you prick,” he mutters, his voice high and whiny. “Fuck me like you promised.” 

I lean down and revel in the feeling of his bare back pressed flat against my chest. “I am,” I say gently against his ear before biting at the shell of it at the same time as I rock into him harshly.

Simon cries out and lurches forward, his arms barely keeping him stable. “ _Please_ ,” Simon whimpers. 

“Hmm?” I ask, teasing him just a bit longer. He knows he can do better than that. 

“ _Baz!_ ” he half-shouts, attempting to grind back against me. And, as I leisurely pull out of him until I’ve almost slipped out, he finally falls into bumbling pleading. “Baz, baby, please, _please fuck me_ , I want it so bad- fuck, _Baz_.”

And who am I to not give that to him? I readjust my grip so I’ve got one hand on Simon’s hip and the other pressed flat on the wall above the headboard. I press deep into him once, just to get my bearings and convince myself that it would be embarrassing and inconvenient to come _right now_ , before I’m fucking him hard. 

I’m not taking my time now, rocking my hips forward and pressing my cock into Simon deep and fast, knocking loud moans and whimpers from him in the process. 

“ _Baz!_ ” Simon shouts, his arms shaking. “Oh my god, uh, _yeah_ , oh my god- _fuck_!” 

I want more. 

I dig my nails into Simon’s hip and fuck him harder. 

“ _Jesus_ , oh my _fuck me you’re so deep,_ oh, you feel so _good-_ ” he wails, keeping up with me by rolling his hips back and attempting to hold himself up still. 

“That’s it, baby,” I say, my voice coming out a lot more collected than I feel inside. My pulse is jumping and I’m this close to coming far too soon. “ _Good boy._ ” 

“ _Nngh_ ,” Simon whimpers, his arms finally giving way so he falls forward into the pillows, his arse now bent up towards me in an extremely enticing angle. 

Even just the anticipation of coming inside him and feeling him come around me is driving me closer to the edge faster than I had originally hoped. But I have a feeling Simon’s there as well, with the way he’s begging and moaning. 

“ _Oh God, Baz!_ ” 

I lean back down again and although it’s a more tasking angle, nothing compares to breathing into Simon’s ear, “Well done, darling, you’re taking it so well,” and hearing Simon wail in response. 

I press a kiss to the nape of his neck and fuck him harder, my hips shifting into him as he cries out and moans with every movement. 

I’m far too close too soon. 

“ _Simon_ ,” I moan loudly against the back of his neck. “Fuck, you’re so good.” 

He’s practically babbling my name at this point ( _“Baz, baby, please, Baz, Baz, oh, Baz, yes,”_ ) and I finally let go of his other hip to reach around him and wrap my hand around his cock. 

“ _Ah!_ ” he shouts, immediately fucking into my hand. 

My movements get sloppy as Simon clenches around me and I wank him for all he’s worth. He’s mumbling and grunting and taking sharp breaths as I feel him get closer. 

“ _Baz!_ ” he sobs as, finally, he clenches around me and he comes over my hand. Every muscle in his body contracts and his tail whips around wildly.

I’m not far behind, the feeling of Simon around my cock far too much to handle. I come, pressing myself deep into Simon and throwing my head back as I moan his name. 

He whimpers with oversensitivity and shifts against me before I’m pulling out of him and falling onto my side next to him on the bed. He follows suit, shifting so he’s pressed up against my chest. 

I idly run my fingers over Simon’s hips and down the front of his stomach. “Good?” I ask. I tease him by gently pressing my fingers down to where he’s still covered in lube and come. 

Simon’s breath hitches, but he shifts his legs apart just enough for me to have access. 

I gently slip a finger into him, relishing in his soft cry, before pulling it out and just rubbing against him slowly. When I press back in, I brush up against his prostate, and Simon shivers in my arms. 

“Fuck,” he mumbles, just barely shifting his hips along with my touch. 

I continue to fuck him gently with my finger, pausing occasionally to rub my thumb against his perineum. I finally withdraw, letting the last few shocks convulse through Simon’s body before I’m wrapping my arms around him and gently running my fingers over his shoulder blades and the base of his wings. 

“Satisfied?” I ask quietly. 

Simon hums sleepily and I smile against his hair. “Yes,” he breathes. “You’re so fit,” he adds when he starts running his hand over my side. 

I laugh and kiss the top of his head. “Only because you keep me on my toes,” I say. “I have to keep up with you.”


End file.
